A Time to Care

By Tim Conley

A Time to Care is the prequel to The Curse of Indian Gold. This is a story about an Indian princess who was kidnapped from her tribe when she was four and subsequently sold into slavery with the Shawnee of Southern Ohio (or what would eventually become Ohio). She ran away, was captured, and was going to be thrown on the fire to be consumed by the tribe. However, John Daniels asked the Shawnee chief, Cornstalk, for her hand in marriage.
Mary Alice Daniels later saved the chief's life and he gave her bottom land in Southern Ohio. She was also placed under his protection and would need it when greedy white men tried to steal her land and send her to Oklahoma territory. She refused their offerings, stood up for her rights and won.
This story plays into The Curse of Indian Gold because Mary Alice's grandson committed the atrocious act of robbing an Indian grave. He and five other men got seven pounds of gold from the grave, sold it and began living like kings. They were cursed. Read & Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tim Conley
• Release date: Aug 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005422790

Tim Conley

Hi, my name is Tim Conley. I live in Philadelphia, MS with my beautiful wife, Carmela. My son,James (JD) is in the Air Force and has a son Joshua who is 21/2 with another boy on the way. Carmela's son - Enrik just graduated from Mississippi State University with a degree in Teaching.I have been writing for over twenty years and have published 67 books so far - two recently with Amazon/Kindle. I'm currently working on a fantasy anthology of 28 books called The Rhumgold Sagas.I have always been interested in publishing via eBook format but just haven't found the venue until now. I'm really looking forward to participating in the eBook experience. There are 22 e-books available now and 16 more that are being prepared for release in 2020. Read, explore and enjoy!

Book preview

A Time to Care

Prequel to The Curse of Indian Gold

TIM CONLEY

Copyright © 2012 Tim Conley

Dragon’s Breath Publishing

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1-9783-4367-1

ISBN-13: 978-1-9783-4367-2

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Other Books by Author

C1 A Troubled Childhood

Leaves kind of squished underfoot today. Clouds raced across an early October sky and hurried on about their business. Rain the night before had washed everything clean. The air smelled crisp and rejuvenating with just a hint of the winter that was coming on. Monamee glanced over at her great-grandson and smiled as he seemed to be taking it all in with a level of understanding well past his six years.

Timmy Joe, watch out where you’re stepping there, she admonished with a gentleness that belied the character everyone in the neighborhood attributed to her. Once more she felt the peace that always came from being out in nature.

What’s the problem, Grammy? he looked up and asked.

She took her walking stick and lifted aside some leaves that were still wet from last night’s rain. Then she pointed at a stalk that had lost its leaves. That is ginseng root. You step on it too hard and it might not come up again in the spring.

He placed one knee on the ground and examined the stem carefully. How do you know so much about it? he asked, his brow furrowed. Doesn’t look special to me.

Mary Alice hunkered over as far as her rotund body would allow and pointed again with her stick. See how transparent the stem looks? Which side of it is still green and which side has turned a pale purple?

He looked closer. The north side is purple. Is that from the wind blowing on that side all summer like it does the bitter root and mustard plants?

Her eyes sparkled as she realized he had made an association most white people missed during this late date of unreasoning with their rushing to and fro. You are correct. Remember that when you need to know which way to go and you’ll never be lost.

Timmy got up and placed his hand in hers. I can’t never be lost if you are out here with me, he said with confidence. She looked back down the rutted road that led past Uncle John’s sawmill and then meandered down to the house. They had walked perhaps half a mile up into the verge of the hillside and could see only smoke coming from the chimney of the log house they lived in.

Surveying the land leading back down the valley brought her to the realization that eighty-six years weren’t long enough to really appreciate the life she had been given. The Great Spirit had been good to her. She squeezed his hand and led him on up into the virgin forest.

They were looking for something specific today. Squirrels would have been busy all morning trying to get acorns and hickory nuts back in under the cover of leaves that the wind had blown helter-skelter.

She turned over several big Sycamore leaves and indicated that he was to load the nuts into his sack. Timmy placed a couple acorns and half a dozen nuts into his bag and asked another question.

Grammy, what will the squirrels eat this winter if we take their nuts today?

She chuckled. Now don’t you go worrying about them. For every leaf on this hillside there is probably a nut. We’re not going to even scratch the surface – not even with a wheel barrow. But it is good that you remember to only take your share. Leave something in nature for all the other creatures and the Great Spirit will bless you with bounty.

Who told you that, he inquired after picking up a couple more nuts.

Mary Alice sat down on a stump that was all that nature had left of a large Beegum tree that had fallen in a storm many years in the past. She indicated for him to sit beside her and they looked out through the leaves that yet remained on the branch to the homestead she had cleared even before the fall of the tree.

Your great-great grandfather was a man of renown in these parts. Did you know that?

Timmy shook his head. I’ve heard mention of him but don’t know that I would know him if I saw him, he replied.

She sighed and took a biscuit she had made that morning from her pocket, divided it in two parts and handed one to a boy who was always hungry. He munched the butter coated top for a moment and then looked up at her sideways.

He died before I was born, didn’t he?

Yes honey, he did. A long time before, in fact. I was a small girl when he passed from this plane of existence.

Would I like him? Was he scary like all the other Indians I keep hearing about?

She chuckled again and seemed to shake all over. Yes, to both questions. And you need to stop listening to some of them stories. They just ain’t true.

Well, Jimmy Johnson’s dad said they were. He said he saw the scalps that your dad was supposed to have taken at the Battle of Fallen Timbers. He said he was blood thirsty through and through and no white man was safe with him around.

She shook her head and sadness entered her voice. He wasn’t a blood thirsty savage as they made him out to be. He just didn’t accept the white man’s ways is all. He knew how tragic the arrival of the white man was to our way of life. Sit back and let me tell you a little about him and the times he lived in. You see – he had a very troubled childhood…

C2 Spiritual Visitation

Mary Alice had turned a yarn that lulled the youngster into a realm where anything was possible. Of course, with his great-grandma, everything was possible. She knew what she was talking about – having lived a lot longer than anyone he knew. Her words were punctuated with thrusts of her walking stick into the ground or against the trunk of a tree – to emphasize the action that was taking place within her narration.

In those days the veil between this world and the next was much thinner than it is today. You could almost see into the hunting grounds of our forefathers. And they could pass warnings through the veil to us. You mentioned Fallen Timbers. Well, believe it or not, but we knew what was going to happen before the white men did. Your Uncle John’s grandfather saw to that. He spoke and we listened.

But how? How could he speak? Timmy interrupted.

Through our dreams, son. Dreams and vision quests provided the people with a wealth of what the whites call information.

When you dream – it isn’t just to imagine all the pretty things that you would like to get at Christmas time. It is much more serious than that and you have to be ready to listen to them. Especially when they don’t make any sense. That is the time you need to free your mind and keep it open. Don’t ignore them, Timmy Joe. Only heartbreak and ruin will come from that.

Timmy looked up at his great-grandma and noticed a tear had welled up in the corner of her eye. She was holding back a flood of them.

What is wrong, Grammy?

She wiped her eyes with her red hanky and put it back in her apron which she always wore. There is so much that needs to be said and not much time to say it in. I hope you understand that. You might as well get ready now to carry on my legacy into the future that is coming no matter what we do.

You mean I will carry the legends and folklore of our ancestors inside me?

Yes, Timmy. That is exactly what I mean, and we don’t have much time for you to be learning them. Just like this forest is shutting down for the winter – so am I shutting down for the sleep that is to come. You will have to tell future generations of the exploits of my generation on the Earth.

Timmy shuddered in spite of the bright sunshine that reached the clearing where they were sitting. That sounds like a big responsibility to me, Grammy. I don’t know if my little brain can hold everything that’s in yours.

Maybe, and maybe not. Time will tell. You just need to listen and remember. Some of what you will hear will be fantastic and over the top. Most of it will go contrary to what them preachers are trying to get you to believe in Sunday school. And a lot of it will take you growing to full manhood before you fully understand.

Timmy sat back on the stump and looked out across the clearing to the homestead. He could just make out wisps of wood smoke from where Uncle John was outside making cracklings in his iron kettle. They had slaughtered a couple hogs two days before and he had helped his grandparents in their efforts to get the meat salted and cured for the winter. Now Uncle John was making a crunchy mixture from the pork skins and rendering lard in the process. Timmy’s stomach grumbled loudly as he thought of the pork skins.

Timmy Joe, I swear you are forever starved. I’m gonna have to check you for worms. Them coon hounds you have running around under the porch have probably passed you one or two. You need to give them back so you can grow.

They both chuckled as she tickled his ribs. The warmth of the sun was making him sleepy and she took advantage of the situation.

A long time ago, there was an Indian princess born to the Black Loam people of the Northern Cherokee nation. She was a sickly child at first but she grew out of it and became a very pretty addition to the tribe. Called Monamee at birth by her mother, Saunea, she grew up to be the apple of her mother’s eye.

C3 Walking a Narrow Path

Cherokee nation was quiet for a change. No wars to speak of. No trophies to display except those taken in past battles with their foes. Land had been carved out of the dense forests and lay fallow for spring planting. White encroachment was still years away, but Motega knew it was coming. He could feel the disturbance in his bones, even though he knew his thirty-eight winters still made him a young man – in his prime, as his grandmother, Meda – the Prophetess, liked to point out.

He picked up his father’s war club and considered again the gift. His father had used it no less than seven times to bring his foes in check. Now Tuketu had been a warrior that Motega wished he could be. No one gave him anything other than a good time of day. A wide berth was cut to get out of his way when he passed down a path. ‘As it should be,’ Motega’s thoughts betrayed his feelings about the present path that the People were having to walk with their neighbors.

‘The Shawnee will pay for their affronts,’ he continued down the path of his thoughts. His father hadn’t listened to the advice given by the village shaman and had paid the ultimate price for thinking he was invincible. ‘I won’t make that mistake.’

Tokuli poked his head inside the lodge. You going to sit there all day or join us? Come on. Everyone is ready to move out. He showed Motega that he already had his backpack on and was ready for the late spring weather. Salt Lick won’t come to us, you know.

Motega regarded his friend. Tokuli was the only one who knew of the darkness inside his heart. They had talked well into the night many times about how they could exact revenge upon their enemies.

You know the salt will be there. It won’t go anywhere without us to take it up, he said quietly. But do we really need to provoke our enemies at this moment? I had a vision when I picked up Tuketu’s war club. Maybe he is trying to tell us to be careful on this trip. He looked around the enclosure and realized that all he needed